


make your own break, let them grow

by bestliars



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Best Friends, Edmonton Oilers, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Minnesota Wild, questionable magical ethics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 19:49:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5018062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bestliars/pseuds/bestliars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Jonas wanted was a friend. The magic gave him so much more than that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	make your own break, let them grow

**Author's Note:**

> barefootstarz made this amazing mix that you should absolutely listen to while you read.  
> http://8tracks.com/barefootstarz/make-your-own-break-let-them-grow
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks to Stellarer for listening to this story as chatfic, listen to me complain while I was writing, and betaing the final project. I’d be a mess without you babe.
> 
> things that are untrue:  
> I made up all their family member’s names.  
> Oscar played center until he was like 13.  
> And all of the magic, obviously.
> 
> Warning for some questionable magical ethics, and then lying about it. Feel free to ask me for details

**PART ONE  
make your own break, let them grow**

The summer Jonas turns eight, a new family moves in down the street. Bored, he watches the whole thing, curious about the new people, the big truck, and all the boxes.

“Maybe they’ll have a kid your age to play with,” his mother wonders out loud. “Wouldn’t that be nice, someone to run around with? Someone to play soccer with? And hockey in the winter?”

Jonas shrugs. He doesn’t know what to do when she talks like that. She says he can invite boys from school over, but they aren’t any fun. It’s alright if they’re playing games, but the rest of time it’s no fun. They’re all so boring. None of the other boys in school have magic like he does.

Carl has magic, but he doesn’t have time to play with his little brother. Molly is only six, so something could still happen, but even if she does have magic she’ll still be little. What Jonas needs is a best friend.

At dinner that night conversation turns to the new neighbors. Jonas’s father talked to them on the sidewalk on his way home from work, and learned they have a daughter Carl’s age, but no one for Jonas to befriend.

That’s so dreadfully boring. 

Jonas turns everyone’s mashed potatoes into applesauce, and when his mother asks him to turn them back he doesn’t know how. Carl has to do it, and he’s so slow about it. By the time they’re changed Jonas has almost cleared his plate, and Molly has made a mess of hers.

“When I was little I never used make things happen like this,” Carl says.

Jonas knows he can do things that his big brother can’t, and he isn’t even trying. His parents should be so proud.

 

 

In bed that night Jonas dreams of having a best friend. Someone who would stay with him forever and always. Someone to play with, soccer in the summer, hockey in the winter. Someone who’s weird like him, who wants to talk about bugs and dinosaurs. Someone who can be louder, and organize the boys from school into teams, or make them go away, but who can also be quiet when being quiet is better. Someone who’s magic.

He wishes a boy like that moved in down the street. It would be so perfect — a boy just his age, maybe a week younger, so he’d have to listen to Jonas.

 

 

While he dreams, the magic gets the better of him. It makes changes he knows he shouldn’t try. It leaves him, and reweaves the world. His magic transforms empty space into flesh and blood, making a heart that beats, and eyes that see. It settles into the chest, giving itself over to the new boy, to use as he will.

 

 

The next day Jonas goes to play in the field beside his house, and meets Oscar. He recognizes his own magic in the shape of the boy, but there’s another color too, something that doesn’t seem to be his own work. He isn’t going to ask questions. Not when the other option is to run around with this boy, to have someone to talk to, and show the best rocks to turn over looking for bugs. It is a lovely afternoon, until it gets late enough that Jonas has to head home for dinner.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Oscar asks, and Jonas can’t agree fast enough.

 

 

At dinner he tells his mother, “I made a new friend today.”

“Oh?” She sounds pleased and surprised.

“His name is Oscar, and he likes hockey, and is going to be in my class at school.” Jonas feels like he’s bragging. He has a friend now. A friend of his very own, made with magic, but no one else needs to know that.

“Who are his parents?” his mother asks. They live in a small enough town that she knows everyone, or almost everyone.

“The Klefboms.”   
“I thought they had a girl?”

Jonas shakes his head. “No, they have Oscar too.” There was space right there for him. Nothing could have changed if the magic wasn’t able to find a place to make a home. The Klefboms had an empty room, and the idea that it might be nice to have a son lingering in the back of their minds.

“Are you going to have your friend over to play?”

Jonas nods.

His mother looks up from her cooking to smile at him. “Good. I’m very happy for you.” She ruffles his hair. “Now go wash your hands before we eat.”

Jonas does as he’s told with a grin on his face.

 

 

Jonas has had a best friend for a week when he meets his best friend’s big sister. Ida comes looking for him. She finds them playing outside, stomping into the clearing where they had been playing.

“You’re my baby brother’s new friend?” she asks, sizing him up.

Jonas nods.

“We need to talk,” she says, then turns to Oscar. “You—” She points— “Scram.”

“No I won’t,” Oscar says, scowling and starting to protest.

“Scram, or else,” She says, sounding scary.

“It isn’t fair,” Oscar sighs. “You always get your way. My whole class at school thought you were weird. They all felt sorry for me, having a witch of a sister.”

Ida makes an odd face at the insult, or maybe at the mention of a shared past. She forces a sharp smile, and says, “I promise I won’t break him.” 

Jonas wants to believe her, but isn’t sure. Oscar must believe her, because he leaves them alone, with one last backward glance.

Jonas doesn’t like this. He’s alone in the woods with this girl, who’s a couple years older, a little bit scary, and a magic user too. He tries to stay calm. He tries to look tough.

She looks down at him like he’s a bug to squish.

“I don’t know what you did, but it’s something. I didn’t always have a brother. I don’t remember not having a brother, I was too young to remember before he was born. But I know he wasn’t always here.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jonas says, trying to sound confident in the lie.

She laughs. “I can see the newness of him. It looks like your magic. I don’t know how you did it, but I know you did something. I’m not interesting in undoing anything.”

That’s good. Jonas doesn’t know what he would do if Oscar stopped. He needs Oscar. It was so lonely before.

“I’ve always wanted a little brother,” Ida says. It reminds Jonas of how people say they want pets or toys. “He’s my magic too — just a little bit, not as much as he’s yours, but I can feel it.” Now that she brings up the idea Jonas can see how the hue of her power tints Oscar’s magic. “And, like… he’s my baby brother. Maybe not exactly, but I remember things. I… care.”

She almost sounds scared, but that can’t be right. Girls like her, who are older and have wild dark hair, aren’t supposed to be scared of anything.

Jonas hadn’t thought about how Oscar would matter to anyone else. Jonas hadn’t thought at all ahead of time, Oscar just happened. Jonas didn’t wonder what Oscar’s appearance meant for other people, he was too busy playing with his friend. He’s been told over and over that actions have consequences, especially when magic is involved.

“You have to take care of him, alright?” Ida says. “You made him, that makes makes you responsible.”

That makes sense. He nods. This is serious stuff. “Do you want me to promise?” He asks.

“Yes. I know you can’t protect him from everything, it isn’t up to you to protect him from the whole world. But if you hurt my brother, I will hurt you so bad,” she says, dead serious. Jonas doesn’t doubt that she’ll do it, but doesn’t want to find out.

“I won’t,” He says. “Promise.”

She stares him down.

“What do you want me to do?” He asks. He doesn’t know the proper words for an oath, but the thing about magic is that they can make things up and the magic will make it work. Magic can force the issue, bully them into behaving or suffering the consequences.

“Pinkie swear?” Ida asks. She holds her hand to him, finger out.

He links his little finger with hers. For a moment he wonders if that’s all there is, if she is going to trust him to keep his word, before her magic comes rushing up, sealing the promise. The woods seem very still around them, until the casting breaks open. The wind and the birds in the trees sound louder than before. Ida lets go of his hand.

There’s a crash as Oscar runs back into the clearing. Jonas stays where he is. Ida nods at him, then turns. She passes close to Oscar, stopping to press a kiss to his forehead before wandering off.

“What was that?” Oscar asks.

Jonas shrugs. “Nothing to worry about.” It will be fine. He’s going to keep his word.

 

 

At the end of the summer his mother takes him into town because the doctor wants to test his magic again before school starts.

The last time they had an appointment about his magic the doctor talked to his mother in the other room, and she came back looking pale. She hugged him hard, and said, “You’re so strong, sweetheart. So strong, and I love you so much.”

The doctor talked to them about how he might need to go to a special school that would be able to help him more with his magic. The doctor said not to worry — that it would be fun, and he’d be able to make lots of friends there.

Jonas didn’t trust that though. His mother held onto his hand so tight.

He asked the doctor if he could play hockey there, and the doctor said he didn’t know, but it was the way adults say they don’t know things when really they don’t want to just say no.

This time the tests didn’t seem as interesting. He uses his magic, and they watch him through the different panes of colored glass. The doctors go “ah,” and “um,” and write things down on their clipboards. The doctors all have blank faces.

His mother looks worried. She looked worried all yesterday too, enough that he had asked if there was something wrong. She said, “No, sweetheart,” but hugged him too hard, for too long, before he could squirm away to run outside to find Oscar.

Yesterday they played soccer until they were tired of running, and then they laid in the grass and had a stick fight with magic, and when they got up they found a beetle that had crawled up Oscar’s arm. It wasn’t a special beetle, but Oscar said he had never seen one like it before, which made it special, so they had to look at it from every angle. Jonas made a bubble for it to float in, and they watched it try to get out until Jonas got distracted and the bubble popped, setting it free.

That was a better way to spend an afternoon, better than floating colored blocks back and forth without moving his hands, or playing ten thousand rounds of what’s my card.

In the end the doctor tells his mother that he won’t have to go away for school. She sighs, and holds him so close. “I’m keeping you as long as I can.”

Jonas is glad he doesn’t have to go anywhere.

On the way home they stop to get ice cream. It is sweet and cold. His mother is feeling good enough to let him get two scoops, and sprinkles, even though it’s getting close to dinner. It’s probably the best thing to happen to Jonas all week, though yesterday’s beetle had been pretty neat too.

 

 

Having a best friend is magical — Jonas suspects this is universally true, not just an effect of their situation. He has someone to talk to, someone to listen to, someone to spend time with. They very quickly become inseparable.

Jonas’s parents think Oscar is delightful, and are always happy to have him around. Oscar’s parents like Jonas too — they like both boys. Jonas imagines they must have been so bored without a son. Ida is so much quieter than them, except for when she is much louder. Oscar seems to be just the right volume, but Jonas might be biased. After all, Oscar is his best friend.

 

 

Slowly but surely they grow up.

They’re in the same classes at school. Jonas doesn’t know if he fixes that or not — it’s a small school, leaving it to a coin flip's odds. There might have been a little nudge, but not on purpose. Or it could have been Oscar’s magic. It’s hard to tell them apart.

Being in the same class is better. It means they can look after each other. Jonas hadn’t liked being alone.

After school they like walking in the woods around their houses. They like climbing trees. Jonas wasn’t allowed to climb trees on his own, and his mother still worries, but it isn’t forbidden now that he has company. If one of them falls the other will be there to run for help.

Oscar takes the kind of risks Jonas wishes he could.

They have magic classes twice a week.

At first Jonas had worried, but no one else ever comments the way they resemble each other magically. They’re both young, and they’re close — it wouldn’t be surprising for their power to take similar shapes.

Jonas can see it though, how the spark of magic Oscar is using is mostly Jonas’s, and a little bit Ida’s. Less and less though, as Oscar molds it to his will, changing it on a fundamental level. By the time they’re grown Oscar’s magic will be all his own.

Jonas likes magic. Of all their lessons it is his favorite, almost as fun as hockey practice. It isn’t as easy to change things as it was when he was little, but that happens. Children will learn that they don’t have limitless power, making them lose their bravery and imagination. Jonas isn’t sure if that’s all of what’s happened to him; he knows there’s less of the world he wants to change. He’s found what had been missing from his life.

Magic is less important to him now, when there’s hockey and Oscar and a thousand other things.

In the summer they play soccer, and Jonas’s dad coaches them. It isn’t as fun as hockey, but it’s good. Oscar’s dad takes them fishing, and Jonas gets so sunburned. They do manage to catch a few fish, but not very many. Next year they’ll do better.

They get old enough that Carl has to let them tag along camping. Carl and his friends are all older, and too cool for them. They set up their own tent, and stay up too late telling stories. They don’t have interesting stories — they’ve lived through all the same things, they know all the same same legends. It’s comforting, to remind each other of the details of the pranks their team pulled, and the terrible ideas induced by cabin fever over snowy winter vacation when they were fourteen. They finally fall asleep curled together, too tired to say another world, the magelight Jonas had cast fluttering above them flickering out at last.

The next summer they catch more fish. The summer after that they’re allowed to camp by themselves. Waking up tangled together isn’t as harmless as it used to be, but Jonas isn’t willing to give up falling asleep side by side. He won’t let all these new hormones mess with them — Oscar is his best friend.

The summer they turn fifteen they give up soccer to to focus on hockey. They train for real, working hard to prepare themselves for a long season. They’re both getting on taller, starting to put on muscle. It isn’t fair — Jonas is older, but it seems like he’s always going to be a string bean, while Oscar has gotten taller and started to fill out. They’re still kids but Oscar has the outline of a man. Jonas’s imagination can sketch in the details.

Oscar grows up to be so good looking. He practically glows. Jonas would think this is all in his head, a new manifestation of their magic, but the way the girls at school giggle behind their hands means that other people see it to.

Jonas has always dreamed of Oscar, from the beginning, from before the beginning. Jonas dreamed Oscar into being. These new dreams are different though.

It must be part of growing up.

Jonas is deeply skeptical of growing up. It seems like more bother than reward. At some point growing up will put them on different paths, which he doesn’t approve of. It’s better together. Jonas rewrote the world once to put Oscar in his life, he doesn’t know what he’d try to do to keep Oscar there.

 

 

Oscar kisses him first, and that makes it alright. Oscar started it. All there is for Jonas to do is kiss back and try not to worry.

He made Oscar when he was so young, he never thought about, like, romance stuff. It was so far over the horizon, beyond consideration. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel weird about being into Oscar. Making yourself a friend is one thing, one that Jonas has mostly made his peace with. Making anyone for sex is such bad magical ethics, simply unacceptable. Jonas tries not to have those thoughts. Having Oscar as his best friend is more than enough.

But then Oscar kisses him.

And that isn’t anything he can pass up. He doesn’t have that kind of self control. He’s seventeen and in love with his best friend. All he can do is kiss back and wish for it to work out.

He doesn’t know if Oscar likes him because of his own thoughts, or because Jonas made Oscar to like him. Jonas didn’t know he liked boys when he made Oscar, but he knew he wanted a friend who was weird just like him. The magic must have known all the ways that would matter.

Or maybe it’s all Oscar, who’s his own person now.

All Jonas can do is kiss back.

 

 

All in all, Jonas is pretty happy having a perfect magic boyfriend who he kinda sorta magicked into existence. Sometimes he feels guilty about how Oscar doesn’t know he was made by magic, but mostly he’s too busy and too happy.

They’re both playing in the men’s league some, Jonas more than Oscar. It’s not as fun when they’re on different teams, but they play together on the national team, and they spend all their free time together. Playing at different levels while they’re still living in the same city isn’t so bad. They’re going to have to manage something much harder soon enough.

It’s starting to sink in that they’re going to get drafted to different places, which sounds terrible. Jonas made Oscar to do everything with him, and up to this point that meant playing well enough to get drafted. They’ve gotten to grow up together, and they’ve grown into very good hockey players.

Now that’s going to send them in different places, and that is concerning. Jonas worries: will Oscar still want him and need him no matter what happens? He hopes so.

They get chosen — 10th and 19th, by Minnesota and Edmonton. It could be much worse; they could be further away, or they could be real rivals. It still means the paths of their futures are branching in different directions.

But not quite yet. Not this year. This year they’re back on the same team, playing as a pair, inseparable as ever.

One more year.

There isn’t any magic Jonas knows to make it more than that. They’re going to have to make this year count.

They play defense paired together, and they’re better than ever. They go to the WJC, playing paired together, and bring home a gold medal. Jonas can’t stop smiling, and neither can Oscar. They did it, a gold medal wearing blue and yellow, the Tre Kronor on their chest. It’s like a dream, even better because they did it together. They’ll have this forever. No matter what happens later, they will have this, a gold medal proving how good they can be together.

Jonas can’t imagine a world without Oscar — he remembers it used to exist, but he can’t imagine it any longer. Oscar is too important. Their friendship is a block in the foundation Jonas’s life has been built on. He’s awkward, but good at hockey and magic and Oscar. He can’t imagine it any other way.

 

 

The next year Jonas leaves, and Oscar does not.

Jonas goes to Houston to play in the AHL. Everyone there is older than him, and only Johan speaks the language he thinks in. It isn’t bad, but it’s scary. 

He wishes that he still had the power to shape the world with a whim, but that’s long gone, between what he gave up to make Oscar, and what he lost to the normal decline that comes with growing up and understanding what should and shouldn’t be possible. If he had that kind of power he would stay in Sweden another year, or make the Oilers want to bring Oscar over to play in the AHL as well. He doesn’t think he has the strength to push reality like that, and knows better than to try. He’s made his choices, and so has Oscar. They listened to the advice given to them to divine the right course. This is what is best of each of them.

Jonas isn’t used to the right thing for him being different than the right thing for Oscar. It defeats the original purpose. Oscar used to be there just for him, but now Oscar is there for himself, and Jonas wants him to be happy. That means leaving Oscar at home, and accepting the adventure in front of him.

Jonas has done this before. He’s played on a team with Oscar before. It is odd and lonely, but survivable. He’s a fast learner, he can figure stuff out. Houston starts to feel less foreign. He starts to make new friends. 

He gets hurt early in the season, and it sucks. He came to the states to play hockey, now he can’t even do that. He can just wait, and heal, and be bored. The week after he goes down Oscar gets hurt in Sweden too. He’ll be out for the rest of the season. That sounds miserable. The silver lining of both being hurt means they can Skype each other at all sorts of odd hours, which makes it easier to keep in touch. Even with all this distance Oscar is still his best friend, his favorite person to talk to in the world. They matter enough to make time for each other, to talk even when it isn’t convenient. It’s more work, but that’s what growing up is.

Jonas still isn’t sure about growing up, but it does have its perks. He’s finally getting grown enough to start living the life he dreamed about when he was a child. The lockout ends just as he gets cleared to play, and a week later he gets to play in the NHL. Things start clicking into place. He plays well — so well that he gets moved to play with Suter on the top pair. Everyone is so impressed by how solid he is for someone his age, how well he’s adjusted to the North American ice and the speed of the game. Jonas is happy. This feels great. He has friends on his team, he’s starting to learn his way around the cities. Even though he doesn’t have Oscar with him, this feels right. He didn’t know that was possible.

 

 

In April Oscar goes to Edmonton to see the team’s doctors. Coincidentally the Wild are in Edmonton to play a hockey game that Jonas should care about more than he does. It’s hard to care about other things when he gets to see his best friend. They have dinner with Johan, and then go back to Oscar’s room alone. It is so good to have proof that Oscar is real, that he’s flesh and blood, warm muscle, so much skin for Jonas to touch. The sex is as good as always.

They fit together like they always have. “It’s like we were made for this,” Oscar says, lying naked in bed, with Jonas’s head on his chest. Jonas doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t want to remember how that’s half true.

He just needs this — Oscar’s heartbeat in his ear.

It’s finally starting to feel like this will be an acceptable future, that they’ll be able to make this work. They’ll find a way. He has to believe in them.

 

 

The Wild lose in the first round of the playoffs, which is disappointing, but it means Jonas gets to go home. He gets to see Oscar again. They spend a week not talking about hockey. They camp out like they used to, lie in the grass under the stars. They show off, making lights in the sky with their magic before nature takes over, showing them how it’s really done.

In the season there’s less time for magic. They have to keep it off the ice, and when Jonas is playing hockey everyday he has less energy for anything else. Magic is for the summer — for being in Sweden, for spending time with Oscar, for speaking their own language, for warm weather, for beautiful skies. The summer is all magic.

Ida takes them out drinking with her art school friends, to a club with spells heavy in the air. Jonas feels a little bit stoned, but that’s just the web of enchantments hanging over the dancefloor. He hates dancing, but the magic makes it easier, makes him loser. And it’s better with Oscar. 

In the dark like this he can see their magic so clearly. His own power, a well of strength that is always invisibly within him. Ida’s magic has her colors, her style. He can see that Oscar’s magic is a distinct thing, all his own, not Jonas’s, not his sister’s. Oscar is thoroughly himself, and Jonas loves him. Oscar may have been magicked into the world by Jonas’s dream of a best friend, but he’s so much more now. He is solid, and whole, and surprises Jonas more and more.

At the end of the night they leave the club, and the magic fades. It never disappears, always a part of them, but it hides away. Oscar gets them home, Jonas leaning heavily against him, as they find their way up the stairs and into bed. They curl around each other, with the curtains drawn to protect them from the morning sun.

 

 

Jonas has begun to feel that it isn’t fair that Oscar doesn’t know about their beginning. It was such a long time ago, far away enough that even Jonas mostly remembers the rewrite as the truth. Oscar’s real now, and Jonas loves him. That should be everything. That’s all Jonas needs.

But it isn’t fair that Oscar doesn’t know about himself. Jonas is absolutely certain that they have a spectacular future life ahead of them, but he doesn’t know if they can have this secret forever. It was fine when they were kids, but less so now that they’re grown. Oscar deserves to know. Jonas has to believe that it’ll work out fine. Oscar loves him too. They need each other.

 

 

Jonas waits until late in the summer, until after both of their birthdays. The summer had been so peaceful, so familiar and still, Jonas hadn’t wanted to disturb it. He waits until the week before they were both due to fly to North America.

He wants to tell Oscar in the woods where they used to play when they were growing up, but that’s a twenty minute drive from where they’re living downtown. Getting Oscar to go out there would mean tipping his hand, letting on that there’s something important going on, which Jonas can’t bring himself to do. Instead he meets Oscar at the park.

 

 

Jonas starts by explaining about his dreams. When he was a kid he used to dream of having a best friend. Someone with magic, who liked hockey. They could do everything together.

“Just like how we turned out,” Oscar says.

“Exactly,” Jonas says, smiling sadly.

Then he talks about magic. When he was little he had much more magic than he does now, and he didn’t know what to do with it. It was more magic than he could control. It would take initiative, and do things without his asking.

Oscar has heard the funny version of this problem. He’s heard about the times Jonas changed what they were having for dinner, and how his bedroom walls changed color every day for a month. Oscar remembers being there for that, eating toast with jam that used to be celery sticks.

Or well, Oscar thinks he remembers.

There’s no good way to say this.

“It changed when I was eight. I wanted a friend so badly, my magic decided to make you. It’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Oscar is quiet.

“That’s a mean joke,” Oscar says.

“It’s not,” Jonas says. Does Oscar really think he could be that cruel?

“I don’t know if you’re trying to be romantic, or… I don’t know. It doesn’t quite work as romance.” Oscar shakes his head. “You know, I always used to understand you, but it isn’t as easy anymore,” Oscar says. 

The sad thing is, Jonas feels the same way. They used to understand each other so well, but then they had to grow up, and grow different, and things got complicated. Jonas wants it to be simple again — no secrets. That’s why he had to tell Oscar now.

“I hardly remember anything before we met,” Oscar says. “I always thought it was because I was too young. There are things I remember from before we met. A few things. Impressions.”

Jonas has plenty of memories from before Oscar, he just doesn’t like them very much.

“It never seemed fair that there were so many more baby pictures of Ida than of me,” Oscar says. “I thought it was because she was the first born, and I was less exciting. But. Isn’t that the kind of thing the magic would fill in?”

Jonas shrugs. “I don’t know how it worked. I wasn’t trying to do anything, it just…” He still doesn’t understand it. It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and he still doesn’t understand how the world made his dream real.

“Now that I’m looking for it, I can feel it, in our magic. I can see the traces of how this happened.” Oscar takes a deep breath. Jonas reaches out to put his hand on Oscar’s shoulder.

“Don’t touch me,” Oscar says. “You don’t get to touch me.”

“I just…” Oscar was created to fill a hole in Jonas’s life. That hole is still there, a space reserved for their friendship. Jonas doesn’t know if he could stand the emptiness.

“I can’t talk to you,” Oscar says. He stands up. He’s so much taller than when they were kids. The sun’s behind him, which leaves his face in shadow. Jonas has to squint to see.

There’s nothing Jonas can say to fix this. He can’t apologize. Oscar is right to be upset. He has to let Oscar walk away.

Jonas stares at his hands folded on the table. He’s alone. His heart is broken. Magic won’t fix this.

 

 

The next day Ida comes for him. He isn’t afraid. He broke their promise, he deserves whatever retribution she sees fit.

He opens the door to the apartment he’s sharing with Molly, takes one look at him, and sighs. She shakes her head sadly. “You idiot boys.”

Instead of cursing him like expected she barges inside, to the rarely used kitchen, and begins making them both tea. He stays quiet, stays out of her way, and tries not to flinch when she glares at him. She takes down two of Molly’s nice tea cups, adds water, and a heaping spoonful of tea from a brown paper bag she had in her pocket. No sugar, no milk. They’re heated through with a muttered word and a hand gesture.

She takes both cups. They rattle against their saucers as she carries them into the other room, herding Jonas through his own space out to the balcony. It’s a fair day, with a fine breeze. Summer’s almost over.

Jonas wraps his hands around the cup and stares at the colors blooming underwater.

“He didn’t need to know,” Ida says.

Jonas shakes his head. “Yes he did.” There’s a flower unfolding in his cup as the hot water loosens it.

“Not really.”

“He deserved the truth. I had to be honest.” It had gone unsaid for so many years, and for a long time that had been, but lately had stopped working.

Ida sighs at him again. “Well, maybe you needed to tell him, but he would have been happier not knowing.”

Jonas shrugs. She might be right. He’s so used to the right thing for him being the right thing for Oscar.

“He’s mad at me too, for keeping secrets.”

“I’m sorry,” Jonas says, looking away from his tea to meet her gaze. Her eyes are lined with color, and she looks tired.

“That isn’t your fault, you never asked me to lie,” She says. “I never advocated honesty. If you had talked to me before this, instead of just telling him, I would have advised against it.”

Jonas knows that — it’s why he didn’t ask for her opinion.

“He agrees that our parents don’t need to know, thank god,” Ida says. “It would only upset them, and neither of us want that.”

Jonas nods. That’s good. He likes the Klefbom parents, he wouldn’t have wanted to hurt them too. Jonas’s magic got them good. They wanted a son, and they love Oscar. Oscar is easy to love.

Ida loves him too, and that’s why she’s here now, to yell at him, because he ruined things, and made her baby brother sad, when he promised he wouldn’t. He deserves whatever pain comes next.

She sighs again. It’s full of judgment. “I promised I would hurt you if you made him sad, but you seem pathetic enough without my help.”

Jonas tries to imagine what she could do that might make him feel worse than this, and isn’t coming up with many options. She’s too good to use dark magic on him. As upset as she is about this, she won’t use magic to cause him pain. She could make plenty of things inconvenient, but that would be nothing compared to how shit he feels, only a trifle.

“Drink your tea,” she says, very bossy, always the older sister.

He listens, and takes a sip. It’s good, not too sweet. He doesn’t recognize the flavors, something exotic and floral. She isn’t poisoning him, although that would have been fair. He watched her preparations, and both cups are same. With the way she barged in and is making him drink loose leaf tea it’s probably magic.

“Strong tea cures all, even heartache,” is all she offers for explanation. He is willing to try any cure that’s offered.

He drinks her tea and listens to her complain about school, about her sort-of-boyfriend, about how mean he was to tell Oscar. When he gets down to the dregs he sets it back on the saucer. Ida reaches over, swirls the cup, peering down at the remains critically. It seems like she’s staring for a very long time.

At last she looks up, and says, “You’re going to be fine. Eventually.” 

“Thank you.” He wants to believe her.

“I think anything I did to make you hurt would only make Oscar sadder,” she says. “So you get a pass this time. But never again. Hurt him again and it’s all over.”

Jonas doesn’t understand why Oscar would care about his pain. It seems unreasonably optimistic of Ida to think he’ll ever get another chance to make Oscar feel anything. “I understand,” he says.

“Promise?” She asks, holding her hand out.

“Promise,” he repeats.

They pinky swear over the empty tea cups. There is the same shimmer in the air, the same sudden stillness, before the breeze returns. He wants to keep his promise, and the magic recognizes this, accepts this. Their story isn’t over yet.

 

 

Making Oscar wasn’t something he meant to do. He was so young, and so lonely — he just wanted a friend. Oscar is the most amazing thing he’s ever done: the most amazing person in his life, his favorite person in the whole wide world. Jonas can’t regret anything about Oscar for a single second, not even telling him the truth.

There must have been a better way to get it out there, but Jonas still doesn’t know how. Jonas just wants Oscar to be happy, and also here with him. Oscar is supposed to be with him always. That’s what Jonas dreamed of so many years ago.

He doesn’t like that Oscar decided to go away. It hurts worse than anything.

He won’t do anything to change the world this time. It wouldn’t be fair. It could only make things worse. He has to hope that things will get better between them. Or maybe Oscar can be happy without him. He has no such hope for himself.

He goes back to Minnesota, where it should be better, but it isn’t. He’s trying, but everything seems harder. There are higher expectations, and he’s floundering.

He misses Oscar so much. He’s sad, but he has to keep going. He has to play hockey, which means figuring out how to take care of himself. He hangs out with his teammates, and fails at cooking. He gets injured, and mostly gets better. He has to figure out how to live without Oscar which is the worst thing ever, but he can do it, because there isn’t any other choice.

By the time the Olympic break rolls around he is mostly used to it. He’s miserable, but in a dull, worn-down way. He’s disappointed to not make the team, but he knew it was always an outside chance. Next time though — he and Oscar used to daydream about going to the 2018 Olympics together when they were kids, projecting out their future in four year intervals until it seemed like they would be old enough to make it. He tries not to think about that anymore. He doesn’t allow himself to wonder how much better his play might have been if Oscar was talking to him.

He’s resigned to two weeks of entertaining himself without hockey when Oscar calls. As always, Oscar changes everything. Jonas buys a plane ticket for Oklahoma City to see his best friend.

**PART TWO  
you will survive, will never fall under**

Oscar stands up and walks away from Jonas. It is the hardest thing he has ever done.

He goes to Ida, to yell about keeping secrets, how it isn’t fair. He’s so mad at her, but she’s also his big sister, and the only person he can talk to about this. He lets her hold him, because there isn’t anyone else who can. She offers ice cream and bad movies, like it’s one of her breakups, even though they both know it’s something different. He lets her make them tea, and they watch the old movies, cartoons he remembers them watching together when they were children. He doesn’t know if that really happened, but the movies are familiar, and he needs that, for a day or two. He tries to find comfort in familiar things, his sister and home, and it works for a while, except for how it feels like something’s missing.

He doesn’t need Jonas. He is all grown up, and strong, and going to be fine. It’s time to start again, this time on his own terms.

In the fall Oscar goes to Edmonton. He doesn’t make the team, which isn’t surprising, he missed most of a year of hockey. He feels rusty, and off balance. There had been a number of things he took for granted in his life, and he’s having to reevaluate them now. Moving to another continent from everyone who knows him is a good opportunity for making other major life changes. It’s a chance for a clean break.

Oscar gets an apartment in Oklahoma City. Lander is in the same complex, but Oscar is living all by himself for the first time ever. He sets up wards, which make the place feel like home. A sparsely furnished box in a foreign country can be made to feel familiar with magic thrumming along the walls. It helps to have someplace safe to return to.

And he’s playing hockey too, which is marvelous. He’s getting back into the swing of things, adjusting to the smaller North American ice. The travel is worse here, long bus rides on flat highways, rolling through a landscape that looks nothing like home. He loves how unfamiliar it is.

Missing most of last season means he starts slower. He learns what it’s like to play three games in a long weekend, with travel as well, leaving him bone tired. It takes work, but he can feel himself getting better. His play gets stronger, he feels more confident.

When he isn’t playing hockey he spends more time using magic. He doesn’t try anything big, uninterested in recreating any of the processes they learned in school. He wastes time remembering colorful children’s tricks, common magics he grew up with. He perfects silent odorless fireworks that burst into flowers before disappearing. He messes with the flavor of his food, not altering it fundamentally, but tricking the taste buds. He conjures up fields of stars to dance across the bedroom ceiling, lulling himself to sleep.

Growing up they were so busy with hockey they didn’t learn as much magic as they could have. Their lessons were about keeping their powers under control, not how to use them constructively. Oscar didn’t mind this when he was little, he never even questioned it, but now he wishes he knew more. Not enough to actually seek out the theory on his own, or ask Ida about her school work, but he’s curious.

When he uses his magic he feels very sure of who he is. He is more than just Jonas’s imaginary friend come true. He is powerful, and can influence the world around him. He can see through veils, and create his own illusions. 

He can hide the truth, but it’s still there.

He misses Jonas. 

It shouldn’t be surprising. Of course he misses Jonas, they’re best friends, and a part of each other in weird ways. He always misses Jonas. It’s worse, because they aren’t talking, and he’s so angry, but it isn’t something he can stop.

It isn’t just the magic, this is all of him. He misses Jonas. He wants to stay stubborn and angry, to hold a grudge because Jonas lied, but that seems impossible.

He’s hurt, but he understands. He can’t imagine what it would have been like if Jonas had told him when they were nine years old. He doesn’t think he would have believed Jonas — doesn’t know if they trusted each other enough then. He doesn’t know what the magic would have done. He doesn’t know how an unorthodox child’s enchantment would have held up under intense scrutiny. He wonders if he pressed it would have simply given up, the universe deciding granting Jonas’s wish was too much bother, and he would have simply popped out of existence.

They wouldn’t have gotten to grow up the way they had. All of the hockey games, and camping trips, and afternoons spent copying each other’s homework. He wouldn’t have had the same butterflies in his stomach before he kissed Jonas for the first time. 

Oscar wouldn’t give up all that for finding out the truth any earlier.

 

As the new year rolls around and announcements are made Oscar notices that Jonas doesn’t make the Olympic team. If they were still talking he’d call Jonas about this, to remind him that there’s always next time, to rehash all their childhood plans. The Olympics something they always imagined doing together. They won gold for Sweden as teenagers, Oscar always hoped they’d get a chance to do it again as adults.

He dreams of it — an actual dream, which comes to him the middle of the night, with his eyes closed. It isn’t for him to say if it’s a story crafted by his subconscious, or wisdom from some other dimension. 

In his dream it is four years later. He is at the Olympics with Jonas, and they still aren’t speaking to each other. Johan Larsson, who had been the captain at the WJC, walks back and forth across a long room delivering messages for them. None of the notes Larsson brings from Jonas make sense. In his dream Oscar cannot remember what Jonas’s voice sounds like. 

Outside the window is a shining future city, his imagination’s understanding of Pyeongchang. Everything echos. Erik Karlsson turns into a fox wearing a crown. There is a massive stag with a glowing crown suspended between its antlers. The stag speaks with Nick Lidstrom’s voice to solemnly inform Oscar that he has let down his nation.

He knows there should be a third crown. He knows there is something missing. He can feel its absence in his gut, until the light changes and he catches sight of his own reflection in the window: there it is, above his head like a halo. He reaches up, to try to take it off and give it to someone more deserving, to give it to Jonas maybe, but as soon as he makes contact it shatters into pieces of golden light. It combusts, creating ten million shards of star stuff that rain down on him, flooding the space until everything else is obscured. There is only light blinding him. He is deafened by the sound of breaking glass.

It’s a weird fucking dream.

Oscar wakes up sweaty, feeling like shit. He isn’t going to wait for years before making up with Jonas. He’s not even going to make it until summer.

 

 

There’s a voice in the back of his head asking if the magic is making it worse. He exists because of Jonas’s wish. He was given form for a specific purpose, to be a companion, a confidant. Now he has abandoned the role, it would make sense if the magic decided to bully him back.

Magic could explain how empty he has felt, how it’s seemed like he’s coming apart at the edges. Maybe it’s magic making life without Jonas hurt worse. 

In the end it doesn’t matter. Maybe it’s magic, but he’s tired of feeling like this. He picks up the phone. Jonas answers.

“Hey,” Jonas says.

Oscar doesn’t know what to say something back. He didn’t think this through. He can’t say _I miss you._ Best to get straight to the point. “If you don’t have plans for break, you should come down here?” Oscar asks.

“I — of course.”

“Good.” That’s good. In a few days Jonas will be here with him. He’ll be able to see Jonas’s face, and touch his arm, and feel heat bleed off his skin. “It will be better to talk in person.” They have so much to talk about. Oscar doesn’t know where to start. He hangs up on Jonas before either of them can say anything else, postponing every conversation until they’re in the same place.

 

The AHL doesn’t stop for the Olympics, but the Barons are on a homestand for most of it. They get back from Charlotte late Sunday night. Jonas flies in Monday morning. Oscar is going to let the NHL player take a cab. He deserves to sleep in.

The problem with this plan is that he’s still rumpled and soft headed from sleep when Jonas knocks on the door. Oscar has managed to haul himself out of bed, and open the door, and now Jonas is just standing there, looking the same as always, saying nothing.

Oscar wants to pull him close and hold on, but he can’t, not yet, not before they’ve talked.

It’s awkward like never before. Oscar watches as Jonas moves through his barren kitchen, making them both tea. They don’t drink tea usually, but alright. It’s time for things to change. Oscar needs the caffeine if they’re going to do this.

Oscar adds two big spoonfuls of sugar. Jonas adds three. The only sound is their spoons clinking against their mugs.

“It feels nice in here.” Jonas breaks the silence. “Your magic all around. I like what you’ve done. Makes it feel like home.”

“Thank you,” Oscar says.

Jonas is the first person with magic who has visited, and it’s interesting to see how his wards react. They droop around Jonas, swaddling his magic softly. Oscar set the wards up as a protection, and they’re shaping themselves to include Jonas and his power in that. It’s like they know Jonas isn’t a threat.

It feels good actually, to have Jonas here, to have Jonas’s magic wrapped in his own magic. Oscar doesn’t want to think about why. He doesn’t want to talk about it.

He wants to go into the living room, where they can turn on the television, and watch cartoons like when they were little and the weather stopped them from playing outside. Jonas can lean close, until they’re pressed close, side by side. He wants to enjoy time with his best friend.

Why did they have to get more complicated than that? He runs his hands through his hair, and takes a sip of his tea. It isn’t that bad. “We need to talk.”

Jonas nods. They really need to talk. They’ve needed to talk for a while, probably even before Jonas dropped the revelation that Oscar wasn’t quite a real boy. 

Oscar sits down at the kitchen table, and Jonas takes the seat across from him. They can just do this. They can talk now, and figure it out. There’s bright morning light coming through the window. Oscar’s tea is cooling down, becoming drinkable.

They’re both quiet for what seems like a long time.

“I want to understand what you were doing, and why you hid it from me,” Oscar says.

“I didn’t know what I was doing,” Jonas says. “I swear. I just wanted a friend, and then there you were, and I didn’t want to question it too closely in case it would take you away. I didn’t even think of telling you, not until we got older, and by then it already seemed too late.” It all comes out in a rush, and Oscar doesn’t doubt for a minute that this isn’t the truth.

He still doesn’t know what to make of it. “I don’t know if I like that better or worse, that I wasn’t on purpose.”

“You’re the best thing ever,” Jonas says, so earnestly, like he really believes it.

Oscar wants to laugh. It’s unreal to think he was made from magic, out of a child’s dream, but that’s the truth. He wouldn’t be here except for Jonas. That’s true on a couple different levels.

“I don’t belong to you,” Oscar says.

“I know,” Jonas agrees. “You’re your own, except for the ways that we are each other’s. Maybe you’re mine, a little bit, at least I hope so, because I know there are pieces of me that belong to you.”

Oscar nods slowly. He doesn’t disagree with that. They’ve grown up so bound to each other, tied together with love.

“The way I see it is, I had a dream at the beginning, so maybe I made you a little bit — not me really, but my magic. But after that you’ve made yourself real, into something better than I could ever make — better than anyone could.”

Oscar doesn’t know how true that is, and isn’t sure if it’s a thought he likes. He isn’t perfect — he’s human and flawed. But he likes hearing Jonas say stuff like that.

“We’re better together than apart,” Oscar says.

Jonas nods. That’s so true. The truest thing. There’s nothing else to say.

“Can that be enough for now?” Oscar asks. “This is my day off, and I’m tired, and I just—” He didn’t want to say this, but it’s true— “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Jonas says.

Oscar is almost done with his tea. He is a real person and can make real decisions about his life, like saying, “That’s enough talking for now. There’s more we have to work out, but later. Talking isn’t what I need right now.”

Jonas nods, and says, “Whatever you want.”

That’s permission for Oscar to pull Jonas into the living room, where they can settle against each other on the couch. They watch cartoons, and then the afternoon’s Olympic broadcast, prime time Olympics, and late night Olympics. They make sandwiches for lunch, and order delivery for dinner. Jonas makes them more tea. At this rate they’re going to empty the box of teabags Oscar bought at the start of the season when he went grocery shopping to prove to his mother that he knew how. At the start of the day there’s space between them, but they forget to be awkward, and move closer and closer through the afternoon. After dinner Oscar rests his arm over Jonas’s shoulder. They fit like this. It gets late, and Jonas winds up lying in Oscar’s lap. They’re both yawning by the time Bob Costas signs off for the night.

“Do you want me to find a hotel?” Jonas asks. “Or I can sleep on the couch. Whatever you want.”

Oscar doesn’t have to think about it. He says, “Come to bed,” and leads Jonas to his room. They strip down to their boxers, and climb under the covers.

It feels right to have Jonas breathing beside him. He doesn’t remember his dreams. He doesn’t remember moving closer to Jonas in the middle of the night.

When he wakes Jonas is already up, sitting cross legged on the end of the bed, drinking tea and blinking owlishly at him.

“What’s with all the tea?” Oscar asks.

Jonas shrugs. “Your sister started it. She said it would make things better. _Strong tea cures all, even heartache._ ”

Oscar groans. That sounds like Ida. Of course it’s her fault. No-good meddling big sister. “She’s probably just fucking with you.”

Jonas shrugs again. “Probably, but it was worth trying. Sometimes she knows things, and I want things to get better.” Jonas sounds so sincere, so fragile, so young. He’s a week older than Oscar. Neither of them are grown enough to really know what they’re doing.

“I want things to get better too,” Oscar says.

Jonas smiles — really smiles, all crooked and awkward. Oscar wants to know how many days it’s been since he last made Jonas smile, so he can know how many days he’s wasted. He bites his lip to stop from smiling back.

He rolls over, buries his face in the pillow, which muffles his words. “It’s not that simple,” he says. Jonas still understands.

Oscar breaths into his pillow, which somehow already smells like Jonas’s hair, which is lovely and terrible.

“Tea isn’t that bad,” Jonas says. Stubborn brat.

Oscar sits up to glare at him, shaking his head. “We’re going out for coffee.”

So that is what they do. They go to Starbucks in America, which they have never done once before in their twelve years of friendship, which Oscar has never done in his twenty (or is it twelve?) years of life. He has never gone to an American Starbucks with Jonas before.

Oscar gets his coffee. Jonas orders tea. Oscar makes Jonas pay, because he’s the big NHL player now.

Jonas makes a face when Oscar says that, and Oscar wants to say that he’s proud, but they aren’t back to that yet. He elbows Jonas in the ribs instead, hoping that Jonas understands what he means.

Oscar drinks his coffee, and Jonas drinks his tea, and their legs bump underneath the table. It’s very nice.

It seems like they still have things to talk about, but Oscar isn’t sure what. This is supposed to be harder. Oscar needs to remember he was betrayed, and start getting angry about it again. But why bother when it would ruin what could otherwise be a nice morning?

He’s more than ready to go when it’s time for him to practice, leaving Jonas behind at his apartment. He needs the physical release. He works hard, trying to skate out all of his restlessness and anxiety. He wants to be calm and able to cope with having Jonas in his space. It doesn’t work at all. Just the opposite.

By the time he walks into his apartment his whole body is thrumming with energy. Being inside his wards offers a wave of cool comfort, but it isn’t enough, not when Jonas is sitting on the sofa, wearing sweatpants and Oscar’s shirt.

He doesn’t say anything, just walks across the room, to sit down next to Jonas, and puts his hand on Jonas’s neck.

Jonas has such pale blue eyes. His hair has gotten longer lately. Oscar still thinks he’s beautiful. He doesn’t know how he couldn’t. It could be the magic making him think so, but he doubts it. This is something that comes from his own heart, from his own thoughts, something grew into certainty, blossoming out from their childhood friendship into something else.

They stare at each other, and it is almost like reading minds. They know each other nearly as well as they know themselves. There’s still room to learn, things to talk about, but no one else comes close.

“What are you waiting for?” Jonas asks. “Kiss me already.”

Oscar doesn’t give himself time to think of a reason why this is a bad idea — he wants it too much.

To move with each other like this comes back naturally.

 

 

They stay up too late talking, trying to understand each other. They have years of history that seems different to Oscar, knowing what he knows now. There was only one lie, but it was a fundamental one, with the power to reframe their whole life.

It appears they have gotten old enough to reminisce, which is odd. There are stories from their childhood that they remember differently, names of former classmates, former friends that don’t come easily any more, that they have to deliberate over, facts that open debates. It’s odd to realize their histories are parallel, not identical. 

They fall asleep lying next to each other on Oscar’s bed, having finally run out of words, at least until the morning.

Oscar has practices, and team commitments, but mostly they just hang out. They have a week and a half before Jonas has to go back to Minnesota, and so many things to talk about. When talking gets to be too much work they’re still the sort of friends who can enjoy time spent in silence.

There’s sex, sure, but also true silence, sitting around and doing nothing. Sex might not use words, but it’s communication, in breaths and touches. It’s another language, which they learned together, and speak with the same accent.

The actual talking with words is good too because they don’t have to use English. They don’t have to search for words, or think before speaking, they can just say shit and understand each other. They may be far away from where they’re from, but wrapped in Oscar’s wards, and speaking in their native tongue, it feels a lot like home.

They have months to catch up on. Jonas wants to hear about Oscar’s first training camp with the Oilers, and the move to Oklahoma. When Jonas got hurt early in the year Oscar had mostly been too pissed off to worry, at first anyway, but later on he felt bad about that. Now he runs his hand down the bone in Jonas’s cheek, trying to tell if it feels any different. 

They play with magic. Oscar shows off his light tricks, and Jonas tries to show off, copying them and adding new elements. They play together, their magic blurring together to make something great.

Jonas is in the stands watching Oscar play on the weekend. They haven’t had a lot of opportunities to watch each other play like this. Oscar thinks he has a good night on the ice, and it only gets better when he gets to take Jonas home and to bed. Apparently Jonas liked watching him play quite a lot.

Oscar isn’t happy when Jonas has to leave. Things are going to be better than they were before. They’re going to keep trying, texting and Skyping and talking on the phone, but it won’t be the same as having Jonas here with him. There are still things they haven’t figured out, things they need to work on, but it’s nicer to be in the same place, where they can get distracted with skin and kisses.

This feels real. This feels important. He must be just as real as anything else in the world if he can make Jonas react like this. Sex is one of the old magics, something that can’t be explained. It exists in the body, there for anyone to unlock. This is something they’re good at, something that is relatively uncomplicated. All they need is each other, and everything else fades away.

 

Oscar drives Jonas to the airport. Anything for a few more minutes together. He needed the months where they weren’t talking, but never again. He’s ready to accept that they’re kind fucked up with how much they need each other. Pretending otherwise only makes it worse.

He doesn’t want to let Jonas out of the car. The world is better with Jonas’s familiar presence sitting beside him. The kiss goodbye isn’t good enough. He doesn’t know what would be. He parks, and walks Jonas to security, and waits until Jonas disappears from view.

He needs to go back to his real life now. He has hockey, and magic, and other friends to keep him busy. They can’t be the only thing in each other’s lives. It isn’t fair, and it isn’t possible. 

Magic is all about balance. This is one of the fundamental rules, something that Oscar understands down to his bones. He isn’t used to applying it to anything other than practicing magic, but it has to become a part of his day to day life. He’s growing up, and he has to find a harmony between being himself and being a hockey player and being in love with his best friend. It isn’t easy, but it’s better now that he knows the truth.

**EPILOGUE  
endless summers**

Jonas goes back to Minnesota, and things are better. They text all the time. They Skype when they can, for sex, or just for company. It isn’t perfect, but they’re working at it. They’re going to figure it out. Jonas believes this with his whole heart.

They belong together; this feels like a true fact.

In March Oscar gets called up to the Oilers. His first game is going to be in Minnesota. Jonas is the first person he calls. It’ll be strange, to play against each other, instead of on the same team, but it will be good too.

The Oilers fly in the day before the game, and Jonas picks Oscar up at the hotel. He waits in his car for Oscar to come down, perfectly still. If he moves he won’t be able to hold onto his excitement. 

In three minutes Oscar will be sitting next to him. In less than an hour he and Oscar will be kissing. Tomorrow night Oscar gets to play in his first ever NHL game, and Jonas will be on the other team. Jonas is so proud of and excited for his friend. It seems perfectly fitting that he’s a part of Oscar’s first NHL game. It feels like destiny, that they’re following a path written for them in the stars. The world makes more sense when Oscar and him are put together. He doesn’t know how to say any of this. He can only hope that Oscar understands — in general they understand each other more than they don’t.

When Oscar gets into the car he reaches over to touch Jonas’s hand. They talk about nothing, chattering all the way from downtown Saint Paul to downtown Minneapolis. Being together means more than words.

He takes Oscar back to his apartment. He doesn’t have wards set up the way Oscar did, but there’s a tangle of old spellwork, and the aura of home. This is his space, and he likes having Oscar in it. 

He skips giving Oscar a tour. They walk through the living room, it’s too cold to use the balcony, he’s used his kitchen twice all year; here’s his bedroom, please get comfortable. Oscar is smiling as they fall into the kiss. 

Everything is them. Everything is magic. Oscar’s skin is magic, not because of how it was made, but because of how they are together. They fit together — fill in each other’s empty spaces, their rough edges match up, having been worn down over time. Oscar is so much more than just the friend he needed growing up, but still that too. They’re happy and in love and magic.


End file.
